


Stolen Things

by WalkingDisaster



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cullen's big dumb dog, Dorian Has Issues, I'm not saying the rating is gonna go up but uh the rating is gonna go up, M/M, misunderstandings are had
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8757544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkingDisaster/pseuds/WalkingDisaster
Summary: Dorian likes dogs. Really, he does. He likes them a little less when they steal his food and ruin his morning.





	1. Scones

It had been a perfectly wonderful lazy Sunday morning to begin with. A little earlier than Dorian was usually willing to be out of bed, but when he’d woken he’d had a craving for the little pastries that the shop down the street sold, so he’d risked getting out of bed before ten to make himself presentable and make the short walk. 

An hour later saw him seated comfortably at one of the little tables outside the small café, a half-finished scone on the plate in front of him and a coffee in hand as he texted idly with Maevaris. Two time zones away, she had been up for hours and likely been productive the whole time, the powerhouse of a lawyer that she was. He missed living near her though, and the benign chatter was nice as he enjoyed the sunny morning. 

He paid no mind to the people passing on the sidewalk near him, his eyes on the device in his hand until a man and his frankly massive dog were stopping outside the café. The dog alone had been enough to prompt Dorian’s eyebrow to be rising, but the man on the other end of the leash was just as obnoxiously large. He was maybe only a few inches taller than Dorian himself, but he was broad and strong in a way that had him running an appraising eye over the way his t-shirt stretched across his shoulders as he awkwardly sandwiched his phone between his ear and shoulder and tied the dog’s leash off to a post a few feet away. 

“Yes, I know, Mia. I promise I’ll e-mail him. Yes, I’ll make sure it’s more than two sentences. _Yes_ , I know!” he was saying as he straightened up, rolling his eyes with a fond smile on his face, “Okay, I’ll see you soon. I love you, too, Mia.” And with a last pat to the dog’s head, the man disappeared inside, leaving a now-whining monstrosity of a dog to ruin the peace of Dorian’s morning. 

Watching the animal over the top of his phone, he couldn’t help but be a little surprised that it wasn’t wearing some tacky studded collar, but instead a practical harness that kept it from choking itself as it pulled at the leash in its efforts to get to its owner. 

[Dorian Pavus 9:36 AM] Some asshole left his dog outside to scream obnoxiously while he gets coffee.   
[Dorian Pavus 9:36 AM] It’s always the giant heterosexual jock types. Don’t care about anyone else’s morning.   
[Dorian Pavus 9:37 AM] Giant dog, giant muscles, no brain cells. Idiot meatheads.   
[Maevaris Tilani 9:38 AM] He’s hot, isn’t he.  
[Dorian Pavus 9:38 AM] Obnoxiously so.  
[Dorian Pavus 9:39 AM] I have awful taste.   
[Maevaris Tilani 9:40 AM] That you do, sweetheart. 

\--

It took exactly five minutes before Dorian realized how wrong his assumption had been. 

First of all, the man had immediately crouched down to console his whining, wiggling dog when he’d returned. Dorian couldn’t help but watch over the rim of his coffee mug as the man cooed and soothed the excited animal. As if feeling that he was being watched, golden eyes flicked up to focus on him. 

Dorian’s first instinct was to look away, too used to having to pretend he hadn’t been looking to keep straight men from getting uncomfortable, but instead of suspicion he was met with a rueful smile. 

“Sorry if he disturbed you. I only rescued him two months ago, but we’re trying to work on separation anxiety a little bit at a time,” the man explained, still crouched down next to his dog and scratching him behind the ears with one hand as he clutched his coffee in the other, a wrapped breakfast sandwich balanced precariously on top. 

Dorian blinked, his expression unguarded for a moment in his surprise before he simply made a noncommittal humming noise and looked back at his phone, trying for the aloof attitude he could usually exude in spades. He was trying very hard not to think about how nice the man’s eyes were once they were focused on him, or how endearing that smile was with the scar that cut through his lip making it lopsided. 

Of course, he was handsome and he rescued dogs. Of course.

He’d hoped that once the man had procured his coffee he would leave, but instead he took up residence at the table next to Dorian’s to enjoy his breakfast as his dog set a heavy head in his lap and stared adoringly at him. 

[Dorian Pavus 9:48 AM] He apologized to me for his stupid dog. A rescue dog with separation anxiety. Very charitable.   
[Maevaris Tilani 9:49 AM] You’re just angry because he’s not an asshole so you can’t justify making a move.  
[Dorian Pavus 9:49 AM] I don’t only like assholes!  
[Dorian Pavus 9:50 AM] He’s straight anyways. With a girlfriend.   
[Maevaris Tilani 9:50 AM] He talked about his girlfriend while telling you about his dog’s separation anxiety?  
[Dorian Pavus 9:50 AM] No, he was on the phone when he arrived. Very ‘yes dear, I love you dear, I’m very straight and very in a relationship, dear’. 

Everything that Dorian himself could never do. He hated having to deal with straight people being overly affectionate in public, knowing how differently people would react if he was the one doing it. 

[Maevaris Tilani 9:51 AM] Has anyone told you how much of a nosy bastard you are?  
[Dorian Pavus 9:52 AM] You and Felix both remind me often enough, don’t you worry your pretty little head.

Smirking down at his phone, Dorian didn’t immediately notice that the gigantic black dog had moved on from begging for bacon from his owner’s sandwich and had sidled closer to his own table. 

That is, he didn’t notice until a large black nose was suddenly sticking up over the edge of the table, snuffling at the half-eaten scone that sat on its plate too close to the edge of the table. 

Busy with his own phone, the dog’s owner didn’t notice anything was amiss until Dorian jerked back, protesting loudly as the scone was snatched off his plate and quickly disappeared. The man jerked forward to grab the dog’s harness to haul him back, but the damage had been done. Dorian’s shocked look swiftly twisted into something much more mutinous, and it switched from the very pleased looking dog to the horrified looking blond man. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry! He’s not usually grabby, I just usually feed him after his walk so he’s hungry for breakfast, I—” 

Dorian was on his feet in an instant, cutting off the man’s rushed excuses. “If you’ve rescued a damn dog with _issues_ you should at least keep a proper eye on it while you’re in public, if you can’t _control_ it!” he hissed, his setting his jaw. The man’s frantically apologetic look turned cooler in an instant. 

“He doesn’t have issues,” he said firmly, “I recognize that I shouldn’t have gotten distracted, but it isn’t his fault. He’s still a puppy.” He was still hunched over a little bit to keep hold of the sturdy harness, but his eyebrows were drawn down and he was frowning as he spoke. Dorian looked distractedly at the dog instead, clearly side-tracked. 

“You call that a puppy?” he asked incredulously, watching the animal sit on the pavement and present him with a dopey grin, tongue lolling. It gave Dorian a spectacular view of exactly where his scone had gone. 

The man holding the harness gave Dorian an odd look before loosening his grip to pet the dog instead. “Yes? He’s a mastiff. He’s not even full grown yet,” he responded slowly, as if this was something Dorian should already have known. 

Dorian just stared at the animal. It was already such an unnecessary size for a dog. Not that he disliked dogs, of course—he liked them just fine—but he was used to them being a much more… manageable size. When Dorian didn’t respond, the man across from him sighed, straightening up and running a hand through his curly blond hair. 

“Listen, I’ll buy you a replacement for whatever he ate. I didn’t mean to ruin your morning. It was one of those scones, wasn’t it?” he offered hesitantly, and Dorian blinked in surprise, unsure why the man had bothered to notice what he’d been eating. But he sighed as well, slowly moving to sit back down. 

“That would be… appreciated. I apologize for overreacting. A scone would be wonderful. I’ll watch your…” Dorian trailed off for a moment, glancing at the massive dog, “Puppy.” It was incredible to see how quickly that hesitant look turned into a genuine smile—one that had Dorian stubbornly looking down at his phone to hide the way his stomach flipped. 

The dog starting to whine and pull at the leash again let him know exactly when the man went back inside. 

[Dorian Pavus 10:13 AM] His dog ate my scone.   
[Maevaris Tilani 10:15 AM] Is he still alive? I have too many cases right now, Dorian. I can’t be getting you off a murder charge.  
[Dorian Pavus 10:15 AM] He’s fine. He was far too reasonable. Made me look like a tit for reacting poorly. He’s buying me a new scone.   
[Maevaris Tilani 10:16] Should I start writing up the wedding invitations?  
[Dorian Pavus 10:16 AM] You’re hysterical. I’ve alarmed the dog with my laughter. The world is in chaos. Congratulations.   
[Maevaris Tilani 10:17 AM] Good to see your sarcasm is still alive. I was worried, you’ve been so genuine this morning.   
[Maevaris Tilani 10:17 AM] But you know, bonding with a man’s dog is basically emotional second base.  
[Dorian Pavus 10:17 AM] I’m not going to any bases. No bases will be covered. Not with some stupid straight man or his stupid dog. 

Dorian hastily locked his phone and put it down on the table when the dog’s pulling turned into jumping, signalling the stranger’s return. The last thing he needed was that conversation to be seen. If the man noticed how rushed the action had been he didn’t show it, simply setting the plate with the fresh scone down on the table in front of Dorian with a smile, nudging the dog back with his free hand. 

“Here. I hope this makes up for Sam’s behaviour,” he said, making sure the plate was well away from the edge of the table where wandering noses might be. 

“Thank you. That’s very generous of you,” Dorian said with a tiny smile, breaking off a corner of the scone. 

“It’s no problem at all,” the man replied, though he glanced down at the table when Dorian’s phone buzzed loudly against it, the screen lighting up to signal that Mae had replied, her smiling contact picture thankfully taking up more space than the message underneath. Dorian just barely caught a glimpse of _’If you’ve bonded with the dog you’ve basically sucked his [. . .]’_ and he had never been so happy in his life that the preview cut off at that point. 

The stranger didn’t seem to notice the words though, his eyes flicking hesitantly between Mae’s picture and Dorian’s face. “Your… girlfriend?” he asked mock casually, and the look Dorian gave him in return was far more interested than any of the ones he’d given him before. 

“No, no. Just an old friend. She’s… not really my type,” he said with a slow smile, leaning back in his chair. 

Maybe this man wasn’t so straight after all. Dorian had to forcibly remind himself of the conversation he’d overheard when the man had arrived—he had no desire to be ‘the other woman’ even if the man was gorgeous and interested. 

“Ah, I see,” he said evasively, nodding as he made a poor attempt to conceal his interest. “I’m Cullen, by the way. I never introduced myself.” That stupid crooked smile was back on his face as he held out one hand. 

Dorian took it with one of his own, a sly smile on his face. “Dorian. Has anyone told you that you do things very backwards, Cullen?” he asked, arching an eyebrow, “I believe you’re supposed to introduce yourself before buying someone food.” 

Cullen laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand once he’d released Dorian’s. “Might have heard that a time or two, yes,” he admitted. Dorian was delighted to see that there was a faint pink tint to his cheeks that he was fairly certain had nothing to do with the sun beating down on them. He laughed quietly, his grin growing a little wider. 

“You’re the one who accepted food from a stranger, though,” Cullen pointed out, and, well, he had him there. Dorian laughed, nodding his concession. 

“I suppose you’re right about that,” he agreed. He watched Cullen open his mouth to say something else, but he was interrupted by the dog nudging him in the leg several times with his massive head, huffing something like an impatient sigh. 

Looking down at his dog, Cullen laughed lightly again and reached down to rumple those ridiculous floppy ears. “I should probably get this poor guy home and give him some proper breakfast,” he said, moving to untie the leash from its post and pick up his abandoned coffee from the table next to him. “It was nice to meet you. Sorry again, for Sam.” 

Dorian waved away the apology, breaking off another piece of his scone. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve more than made up for it,” he said, grinning a little at the look of surprise on the man’s face before he popped the bite of scone in his mouth. He watched as Cullen shifted uncertainly for a moment. 

“Right, well. I’ll, um, I’ll see you around,” he finally said, smiling once more before very quickly turning to make his way back down the sidewalk the way he’d come. Dorian watched him go, leaning his elbow on the table and tilting his head, taking the opportunity to watch his ass as he walked away.

Dorian almost wished he’d taken the time to bond with the dog.


	2. Scarves

When Dorian finally looked up from his research the snow swirling outside the window made him flinch in alarm, reflexively cringing and pulling his blazer a little closer. He’d been at the library for hours, working through his shift before using his free time to further his research. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon after that buried in towers of books with his laptop perched somewhere among them, a long-empty coffee cup perched by his elbow.

 

It had been pleasantly sunny and not too chilly when he’d arrived that morning, with the weather app on his phone assuring him that it would remain mild and dry all day. Staring in horror at the swirling white outside the window, Dorian couldn’t help but feel incredibly betrayed.

 

The library tended to be rather quiet this time of evening, so as he hurriedly tidied his stacks of books and stuck them on the nearest return cart for his coworkers to deal with later—Fenris would likely butcher him for it, but he was beyond caring—he was unsurprised that he didn’t run into any of the few patrons who might be stuck around the shelves. While he was hoping to get home before the snow got any worse, furtive glances as he tidied up his workspace suggested no signs of it letting up any time soon. Dorian tucked his laptop into the bag that he then slung over his shoulder, clutching the strap in trepidation as he made his way to the doors.

 

As he neared the automatic doors they opened with a blast of cold air swirling around him, and Dorian recoiled with a disgusted look. The blazer he’d worn today had sleeves artfully rolled up to the elbow which provided no warmth or safety against the hellish white that descended from the sky, determined to ruin his evening. If the cuffs weren’t intentionally stitched into place by the designer, Dorian would have considered unrolling them and facing the ugly creases in the fabric for the sake of making it the two blocks to his apartment.

 

He was just considering the pros and cons of getting an Uber to drive him two whole blocks when an excited whine that accompanied a massive, wiggling shape caught his attention. Dorian blinked in surprise, eyeing the dog tied up underneath the shelter of the alcove around the doors but just out of the way enough that he wouldn’t be in the way of anyone coming or going.

 

It had been two months since Dorian had seen the beast as late summer dragged into the autumn that had prompted this disgusting freak snowstorm. He couldn’t believe that the animal had grown impossibly larger since then, and despite how unimpressed he had been with the animal’s behaviour last time he seemed to be doing much better. No longer pulling at the leash and fretting about being left alone outside, the dog sat with slack in the lead with his stub of a tail wiggling enough that his entire body squirmed where he sat politely on the chilly pavement.

 

Dorian wasn’t entirely sure if the dog remembered him enough to be excited or if he was simply excited to see anybody coming out of the library while he waited for his master to return, but he couldn’t help but feel bad standing just inside the doors of the library while the very obviously excited animal wanted attention.

 

With a shiver and a bit of a grimace, he left the safety of the doorway to approach the excited animal. He clutched the leather strap of his bag across his chest as his shoulders hunched against the cold air, but against his better judgement he did not scurry back inside to hide away in his cozy little corner of the library until the storm blew over.

 

Seeing that Dorian was approaching, the dog was on his feet in an instant, wiggling all the more for it but still not pulling at the lead. Even despite his trepidation about the weather, he was a little impressed at the difference in this dog that a few months had made. So—cute, polite, and generous was also actually good with animals and not irresponsible as Dorian had unfairly labelled him from the beginning. And evidently, he also liked to _read_. He couldn’t help but be a little smitten all over again, even if it had been months since he’d seen the man.

 

“Well, look at you,” he said to the dog, reaching out with one hand to pet the top of his head between two massive, floppy ears, “I’ve got no food for you this time, so I hope all this excitement isn’t for nothing.” Dorian was a little surprised at how soft the short fur was over the wrinkles on the dog’s forehead, and the corners of his lips tugged up into a crooked smile before he could help himself. He tried for a moment to remember what the dog’s name had been, but the dog had been far less important to his memory than the man who owned it.

 

Cullen.

 

Cullen and… something plain. Rex. Fido. Buddy. Something boring and unimportant.

 

“Sam seems to have taken a liking to you,” a voice said from behind him, sounding far more warmly amused than anyone had any right to be in a snowstorm. Ah, Sam.

 

Dorian straightened up, startled for a moment as he half turned to face Cullen, his shoulders drawn up against the chill and both hands gripping at the strap of his bag across his chest once more.

 

“I think he was looking for something to eat,” he said with a disdainful little sniff, but it was all for show and the way Cullen smiled showed that he’d picked up on it rather quickly.

 

The man looked far warmer than Dorian did, practically bundled up if the hood of a sweater sticking out of his coat was anything to go by. The most charming part about it was the clumsily-knitted scarf wound around his neck, terribly ugly but terribly cozy looking.

 

Dorian wanted to go back inside where it was warm.

 

Dorian wanted to burrow into that scarf and hide from the weather.

 

Dorian wanted to be at home with a warm cup of coffee and a good book.

 

“I’m sure he’s just missed you,” Cullen said instead, a crooked, friendly smile on his face. He laughed a moment later though, the way he reached up to rub the back of his head and shifted his gaze away distinctly awkward and ridiculously charming. “Or he might’ve been lonely. I didn’t mean to leave him so long, but I had some returns to make and a few more late fees than I’d originally thought,” he admitted. Dorian laughed in response, though the amused expression on his face didn’t hide the way his shoulders remained hunched against the cold, long fingers now tucked under his arms to keep them warm.

 

“You should’ve come by a little earlier—I’m always willing to drop a charge for a pair of big brown eyes,” he teased, unable to help himself. The way Cullen looked at him in surprise made him second-guess himself rather quickly though, cursing himself internally as he remembered just how taken this man probably was. “Isn’t that right, Sam? It’s always the eyes you get people with, isn’t it?” Turning to look down at the animal, Dorian raised his eyebrows as if expecting a reply. Sam wagged his tail politely, but predictably did not answer the question.

 

Cullen laughed again, the awkward look disappearing from his face as he too looked at the dog. “Gets me every time, that’s for sure. World-class manipulator, this one,” he confirmed. Dorian smiled. He’d always been incredibly adept at deflection.

 

As soon as Cullen looked away from the dog his expression became surprised again, as if noticing for the first time how underdressed Dorian was for the snow swirling around out from under the safety of the overhang. “Were you planning on walking home like that?” he asked, his brows furrowing in concern. Dorian grimaced, shrugging one hunched shoulder.

 

“Unfortunately so. I only live a few blocks, but I was never made for this blasted weather. I never should have moved to a place with a cold climate,” he muttered, unable to help but complain. Cullen shook his head, his fingers already unbuttoning the front of his coat.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll freeze. You can borrow my coat, and Sam and I can walk you home. We don’t mind the extra bit of walk, do we, Sam?” The dog looked far more excited when the word ‘walk’ was mentioned even if they were outside, and a high whine escaped his throat as he got to his feet. His stub of a tail was wiggling again, but Dorian was stuck staring at Cullen in surprise. He wanted to insist that it was fine, he didn’t need to put them out, but when faced with the option to borrow his coat or stumble home in this frigid wasteland he really couldn’t bring himself to decline.

 

“Are you certain?” he did ask, but it was more out of courtesy than anything. Dorian was well-versed in social niceties. Cullen predictably brushed off the question, shaking his head as he shrugged his coat off and held it out.

 

“Of course. You look like you wouldn’t make it half a block,” he said, shaking his head with a hint of amusement on his face. That alone told Dorian he likely looked as pathetic as he felt, but that didn’t stop him from all but snatching the coat from him and pulling it on, immediately huddling into it. He couldn’t help his juddering sigh of relief at the warmth it encased him in.

 

It was already warmed from Cullen’s body, and that knowledge made him feel a little invasive as he burrowed himself inside it so thoroughly, hands shoved into the pockets and collar turned up so that he could hunch his shoulders and cover his neck with it.

 

Wrapped up in how nice the coat was, he hadn’t realized that Cullen had been unwrapping that lumpy scarf from around his neck until it was suddenly being draped around his own neck by big hands. Dorian looked up in surprise, finding himself staring up into Cullen’s amused face.

 

“There. You look much warmer now,” he said, tossing the last end of it around Dorian’s shoulder before turning around and crouching down to untie the dog as if he hadn’t just been standing close enough that Dorian could’ve kissed him if he’d wanted to.

 

He’d wanted to.

 

Clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders a little in an attempt to reign in any wandering thoughts, Dorian shifted his feet on the cold pavement. “I’m sure I look utterly ridiculous in a coat two sizes too big, but I feel much warmer. Thank you,” he said gratefully.

 

Cullen glanced at him over his shoulder, his gaze skipping down from his shoulders before he seemed to realize what he was doing and his eyes snapped right back up to Dorian’s face. “I don’t know, I think you’re the kind of person who can pull anything off,” he said with a fleeting smile that bordered on teasing closely enough that Dorian had to remind himself very sternly that Cullen was in a relationship, even if he was tentatively bisexual—and really, the jury was still out on that one. Instead of thinking about the implications he could read into that, he burrowed into the folds of the scarf with a haughty noise.

 

“Well of course I am. You’ll just have to believe I look even better in something my size,” he said airily. Something that didn’t likely smell like dog. Dorian was pleased to find that with his face pressed into the scarf that it didn’t smell like Cullen had let his mutt roll all over it, though. Instead it smelled like warm wool and a faded hint of whatever aftershave it was that its owner had been wearing. The scent that clung to the fabric didn’t help him feeling this invasive, but a selfish part of Dorian was incredibly pleased with this.

 

He didn’t wait very long before pulling his face out of it, deciding that it was a very bad idea to let himself get distracted by that. He chastised himself for that thought process instantly—it had clearly been far too long since he’d gotten laid if a bit of aftershave was enough to distract him.

 

Cullen straightened up, leash in hand and utterly oblivious to Dorian’s inner turmoil. “Lead on, Macduff,” he said brightly, and Dorian had to bite his tongue to avoid correcting the quotation and instead force his feet to start moving. He wasn’t about to waste any more time standing about in the snow than he had to, nor was he about to emphasize how much of a pretentious shit he was by correcting the details of an offhanded literary reference.

 

“It’s this way, not far,” Dorian said instead, leading the way down the sidewalk towards the safe haven that was his apartment. Cullen fell into step with him easily, with Sam following a few paces away snuffling here and there at whatever smells were being hidden under the rapidly building snow.

 

It didn’t take long before they’d settled into a spirited discussion about various types of mythology. Dorian had never been good with silences between people, feeling the need to fill the space with endless chatter to hide any discomfort or awkwardness that may brew. An unfortunate habit born of his unsteady home life as a child and continued into adulthood, though it certainly made it easier to make friends.

 

That was certainly what this was. Dorian was being friendly. He was _not_ charmed by the way Cullen looked tossing his head back to laugh in a way that pulled at the scar on his lip while Dorian gave an animated explanation of a particularly unfortunate translation of Ovid he’d come across a while back.

 

He’d been surprised to find that when he’d asked what Cullen had been returning to the library that he’d been reading a series of novels that focused heavily on Norse mythology, and that he had an interest in ancient warfare of various types. Their conversation about different mythologies had taken off from there, Cullen enthusiastic and attentive and Dorian gesticulating exaggeratedly and nearly forgetting to be cold and miserable about the snow until they wound up just outside the complex he lived in.

 

“No, no, cross my heart, that was what it said!” Dorian insisted, making Cullen laugh again, “One mistranslated word, and the entire thing suddenly read like Venus cannibalized Adonis. And then the translator defended himself— _defended_ himself, hah! Honestly!—in a following article. It was awful; I had to send the entire thing to a friend in the middle of the night just so he could laugh at it with me. If I recall, his response was, ‘ _Dorian, if you wake me at four in the morning for literature one more time I’m going to block your number._ ’” He put on a voice for Felix before he could help himself, so habitual for a moment that he couldn’t help but smile, even if it was bittersweet. But he didn’t need to ruin the story with the fact that blocking his number had been unnecessary. Felix hadn’t even made it to the end of that year. But Dorian was recovering from the loss of his dearest friend, no matter how slow a process.

 

It was easier not to think about it when Cullen was shaking his head in amusement, that crooked smile still on his face. “The way some myths go, I wouldn’t honestly be all that surprised if someone told me Venus started cannibalizing her lovers,” he admitted, and it was Dorian’s turn to laugh this time, shifting his feet on the snowy pavement.

 

“Well if _that’s_ what you’re into, I’m sure I can compile a list of recommended readings for you. Courtesy of your friendly neighbourhood librarian,” he quipped, grinning wider as he watched the look of mild horror on Cullen’s face. He straightened up a moment later though, moving his hands to undo the jacket. “Anyhow, I won’t keep you two out in the snow for any longer. Resilient or not, I’d feel terribly if either of you froze at my expense,” Dorian said, shrugging it off and holding it out to Cullen. The lunatic didn’t even put it on, just folding it over his arm.

 

“I can assure you I’m most definitely _not_ into that. But you don’t need to worry about either of us freezing, we’re warm blooded, aren’t we Sam?” Cullen said, turning his warm smile down on the beast. Sam’s stump of a tail wiggled furiously for a moment, the animal thrilled to have attention even if it was just for a pat on the head. When he looked back up at Dorian however, his expression was odd.

 

Dorian shifted his feet, feeling uncomfortable for a moment. This wasn’t exactly the type of situation he was used to. He was almost tempted to ask ‘is this the part where you kiss me goodbye?’ before remembering himself, and he cleared his throat instead.

 

“Yes, well, that’s good to hear. I appreciate the favour though, truly. Thank you, Cullen. You’re a true knight in shining armour,” Dorian said instead, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile.

 

Cullen laughed, rubbing the back of his head with one hand, and—was that a blush on his face, high on his cheeks? No, it must be the cold, he decided.

 

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, and the smile on his face paired with those words should be quite illegal. It was doing Dorian bodily harm. That was the only way to explain the way his stomach felt right now, obviously. But before he could sort that out, Cullen was raising a hand in farewell. “Enjoy your evening, Dorian,” he said in farewell, and then he and the dog were disappearing down the sidewalk together through the snow, leaving Dorian standing dumbly outside the building.

 

It wasn’t until he’d gotten inside and taken the elevator up to his apartment that Dorian noticed that the ugly scarf was still wound around his neck, warm and surprisingly comfortable. Blinking at his reflection in the hall mirror, he reached one hand up to touch it as his brows pinched together in the middle. His fingers curled through the loose holes in the wool, unsure what to think of this. He felt bad for a moment but then, it was far too large and brightly coloured for Cullen to have missed it once the coat had been handed back over and yet he hadn’t asked for it back. Frowning at his reflection, he slowly unwound it and hung it on the hook by the door, promising to himself that he would return it if he ever saw Cullen again.

 

After their walk home together, Dorian couldn’t help but wish very much that he saw Cullen again.

 

He knew it would likely be more like self-flagellation to keep spending time with the man since he was very certain he couldn’t have him, but then again, Dorian had always been very good at making bad decisions when it came to men he was interested in.

 

Instead of dwelling on it he went about getting himself a cup of coffee and some warm clothes to curl up in, determined to spend the evening doting on himself to recover from the insult of an October snowstorm—decidedly _not_  sulking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor hothouse orchid, subjected to such cruelties. 
> 
> In other news, I shortened the title because the length of it was bothering me and I realized how unnecessary it was. 
> 
> I've had this chapter sitting half written since December, but I finally kicked my own ass enough to finish it. Hopefully I'll have more time for writing once I've finally graduated next month and it won't take me another four months to get a chapter up.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Dorian, please don't assume that every girl a person talks to is their girlfriend. It makes for awkward conversations later on about how Cullen is very much Not Dating His Sister.
> 
> It's literally been 7 years since I've written any fanfiction but I'm a sucker for Cullrian and it's ruining my life a little bit. 
> 
> There will be more of this eventually but I'm an exhausted uni senior pls be patient with me.


End file.
